


Note(s) to Self

by wildlyfuriousdragon



Series: Return to Sender [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Coney Island, Depression, Established Relationship, General Canadian Sadness, Letters to Self, M/M, Mozzarella Onion Rings, Recovery, Substance Abuse, Therapy, Underage Drinking, tags make it sound really dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-11 14:51:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7056958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wildlyfuriousdragon/pseuds/wildlyfuriousdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"By the time you receive this letter you will be 10 years old and will be having the notably most horrible nights of your life. Granted the next decade won’t be easy, but tonight is going to be pretty bad."</p><p>or </p><p>Jack writes some letters to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Note(s) to Self

**Author's Note:**

> WOW, I can't believe that this series is over!!!!!! It just seems like yesterday I was uploading 'Love JZ'! The support and enthusiasm that sprung after I published was astounding! So thank you to all my readers! 
> 
> Thank you so much my beta, my homeslice, my bro *theboringteacher*, she has been such a gem and honestly this series would be SHIT if it wasn't for her input and help.
> 
> ALSO, my url on Tumblr has changed to better reflect that I am headfirst in this godforsaken hockey hell so find me @derekmalikpoindexter 
> 
> Finally, I do not own/create the wonder that is Check Please! Thank Ngozi for that gem!!!

 

* * *

 

 

**FROM: Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**6079 Sweetridge RD, Apt 7306**

**Providence, Rhode Island 01052**

**November 4** **th** **, 2015**

 

**TO: Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**16-425 ½ Poplar ST SW**

**Motreal QC H3Z 2Y7**

**December 31** **st** **, 1998**

 

Dear Jack,

By the time you receive this letter you will be 10 years old and will be having the notably most horrible nights of your life. Granted the next  decade won’t be easy, but tonight is going to be pretty bad.

First off you’re going to party with BOTH of parents present, which means a lot of people who you don’t know, don’t care about, and who don’t care about you either (this part of your life unfortunately will never change). You going to spend the night glued to your mother side, as awkwardly as humanly possible, while reporters and journalist ask you the shittiest questions they can aim at you. You’re also going to have to endure the not-so-quiet comments of ‘I guess two beautiful people do make a- different child’ or ‘I wonder if the Zimmermann’s are going to try again’ or the fucking worse ‘Maybe talent skips a generation’.  

Look, you’re privileged in A LOT of different ways (someone is going to teach you that down the road) but people aren’t going to treat you like a person for the longest time. You’re a (unintentional) celebrity, and the public forgets that you have feelings.  

Your mom disappears at some point and you feel naked, so you scramble for a place to hide. You’re halfway to the bathroom when a drunk guest stops you and says, “Sucks to be you huh? Such beautiful parents and they had a dud like you.”

I wish that after 16 years, I could look back at this incident and give you some advice, a better way to handle the situation, but I honestly can’t. You clench your fists and scream ‘ _Fuck you, asshole’_ , conveniently forgetting every impromptu PR session your dad has ever had with you. It’s satisfying for about half-a second and then you realize that everyone around you is staring at you. That’s when it clicks and you think, ‘I’m a show to them; I’m entertaining’. People want to see you emotional or messing up and it won’t change. It’s going to be your downfall.

 _You_ change though. Sure, seeing people speculate about your private life is going to be frustrating as hell but you’ll get around it. Things will get better. I swear.  

It’s just going to take some time.

                                                                   -JZ

 

* * *

 

**TO: Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**16-425 ½ Poplar ST SW**

**Montreal QC H3Z 2Y7**

**July 3th, 2007**

Dear Jack,

How old are you now, 17? You should be at Coney Island right now, although, I doubt you and Kent have left the hotel room. I mean you eventually go out (that’s when you find out that you DESPISE cotton candy) but I’ll be willing to bet that he’s on top of you right now.

Today is going to be a ‘rare’ one, because you don’t feel like you NEED to have a drink or take your medication to feel better. Kent has (and will have for a while) that effect on you; a sort of contact high whenever you’re around him. He can tell by the way your hands are shaking that you need to be taken out of your head for awhile. He’s the only thing keeping you alive right now, you need him

Sex that day changes for you though. Up until that point, the goal is to **_not_ ** feel, **_not_ ** think, but today is different. It’s the 4 th of July and there are thousands of people milling about and only **_one_ ** gives a shit about you. His hair’s bright in the sun, he’s dragging you to all the different rides, making fun of the way you’re dressed (yes you do still dress like you are going to rob a corner store in the future) and it hits you. You’re happy and content and you love him.

You don’t have an _‘Oh shit I like boys’_ moment or even _‘Oh shit I like my best friend’_ . Instead you have an _‘I honestly like something that is not hockey’_ moment, which results in you doing an extremely Jack thing and panicking.

That night when you’re spent and tired and curled into each other, you know something has changed for him too. Your head’s buried in his chest and he keeps brushing the hair off your face and it’s so quiet.  There’s no joking or anything, not even the sound of people outside.

 _‘I’m in love with you Zimms’_. You can feel his chest jump a little as he laughs, like he can’t believe he said it. You don’t say anything; you just lay there and pretend you’re sleeping. Kent sighs, kisses the top of your head and you both fall asleep. You know that feeling when someone hands you a baby (and they start crying - like always? Like this never stops happening to you?) and you just want to drop it or give it away? That’s what this feels like: like you can’t handle what Kent tried to give you that night.

You never talk about it again. He’s going to say that he misses you in the future. You know what he really means, but you’ll never find it in yourself to say it back. Even when you do become brave enough to say ‘I love you’, you both will have moved on.                        

You’re going to fall in love again later, but by then you’ll be so stunted and out of touch with yourself that you almost let them slip away. **_(almost )_ **

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                    I guess what I’m trying to say is: you get to try again. And the results are unbelievable.

                                                                                                                                             - JZ

 

* * *

 

 

**TO: Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**9241 Richard Avenue (Room 327)**

**HR5 1D7 Montreal, QC**

**Centre de jour pour adultes: Readaptation en toxicimanie**

**June 26** **th** **2008**

 

Dear Jack,

I am so sorry.

You’re so young. I can still see you waking up in that hospital, confused and sick. Your dad was sitting there with his face in his hands crying. The first thing you asked about was what happened at the draft, like it even mattered anymore. You ask about Kent next. You should be happy for him; the Aces are such a good team and he’s going to do so many great things (you will too).

Your dad loves you so much. He’s disappointed that you couldn’t come to him honestly about how you felt, he’s scared shitless that you almost died but he doesn’t hate you. He loves you because you’re his son not because you happen to play the same sport.

Kent’s going to visit you as soon as he can, and he’s almost as frustrated as you are. _‘You should have gone first!’, ‘What the hell happened?’, ‘I’m sorry’ ‘I should have known’, ‘I could have helped’, ‘It’s going to be okay.’_  He cares a lot about you and that will never change. He doesn’t always use good methods in showing it, but he does.

Things are horrible right now, I know, and I know I keep saying that things will get better, and I know that’s the LAST thing you want to hear. A lot of people (read: media) are going to say that you’ve ‘hit rock bottom’ and they’re right.  But you **_have_ ** to make it through this.

You have reasons to keep going; they have names and they need you. So please; eat, scream, go to meetings, cry, do whatever you have to do.

You’re going to make it through this, I promise.

                                                                                       -JZ 

* * *

 

 

**To:  Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**1413 South Quad RD Suite 6032**

**Samwell University**

**Samwell, Massachusetts 01067**

**September 3** **rd** **, 2011**

Dear Jack,

Today, you finally start classes at Samwell and you should be proud of yourself. Just don’t let anyone try to talk you out of it. (Mainly Kent). I know the two of you have been arguing more lately and you feel alone right now, but don’t worry. It gets Shittier. (That’s a pun.)

Take the time to start making selfish decisions. I know that sounds counter-intuitive to your ‘Grand Plan’, but, Samwell is for YOU. Your time here will benefit YOU. So think about yourself more.

                                                                                                      - JZ  

 

* * *

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                      **To: Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**1215 Jason Street**

**Samwell University**

**Samwell, Massachusetts 01067**

**August 12, 2013**

Dear Jack,

I know today is the first day of hockey conditioning. I know it’s pre-season and you’re stressed. I know you’re captain and you’re worried. I know you want to make it to the Frozen Four this season. I KNOW.

I know that you’re irritated by the new blonde kid. I know you just see him as a problem and an extra burden. I know you want to put him in the penalty box and lock the damn door.  I know he pulls pies out of his ass (which does not promote healthy living). I know.

You should keep him around though. He’s going to make your life a little sweeter. That’s another pun, but I’m serious.

~~He’s going to pull the hockey stick out of your ass. But fair warning, other things WILL be up your ass~~

                                                                                                                       - JZ

 

* * *

 

“So Jack, how are we feeling today?” Dr. Mata leans back in her chair and stretches with a lazy patience. She’s a shorter woman, stout, with large cheeks that are framed by her dark hair.  She’s been Jack’s therapist since he enrolled in Samwell, and had won him over with her no- bullshit attitude and wit.

“Pretty good. Sore from yesterday,”  Jack rolls his pained shoulder as he recalls a dirty check from the night before, “but good.” They're sitting across from each other; the large floor to ceiling windows letting in the light and sight of the city below.

“And the ol’ noggin?” She taps her head for emphasis. Jack’s been out the hospital for a couple of months but still found himself forgetting small things like where he’d last seen his phone or if he’d remembered to text Eric or not.

“It’s alright. Sticking post-it notes everywhere has helped.” Dr. Mata nods and gestures towards Jack’s hands.   

“Did you get your assignment done?” Jack nods, grins, and hands over the pages toward her. Her nails are a bright cornflower blue; the result of her stringent hand care regiment _(“Dirty hands are unforgiveable Jack”_ He’d started getting manicures afterword). She doesn’t look at them right away, instead she places them face down in her lap and straightens.

“I thought after Samwell, I’d have less homework.”

Dr. Mata lets out and airy laugh and shrugs.

“So what did you think?”

“It was-” Jack pauses and tries to find the right word.

“Uncomfortable? Unnerving? Saddening?” Jack shakes his head quickly.

“No, no- I mean,” he sighs again and looks down at his hands. “I suppose it was a little uncomfortable; talking to myself. But then again it felt, no offence, pointless? Like, I know I can’t change the past and even if I could,” He thinks about his apartment where Bitty waiting for him and smiles, “Maybe all the things that have happened were worth it? If it ends up like this.”  Jack jumps in his seat as the sound of Dr. Mata’s sharp clap rings in the enclosed office.

With a dramatic flourish, Dr. Mata balls up the letters and throws them toward a wire trash can next to her desk. She misses and the ball ricochets off the edge lands by Jack’s chair.

“Congrats! You’ve passed my test!!” Jack raises an eyebrow and stands to place the paper properly in the garbage.

“Passed what exactly?” he questions as he returns to his seat.

“I’ve done this same exercise with dozens of patients and most of them wish they could change one thing. But a few, like you, know that all of our past has cultivated our present,” she separates her hands and brings them back together.

“I think we’re done here,” her smile is especially wide and the apples of her cheeks lift her glasses. Jack raises an eyebrow.

“But we just started, we have like an ho-” Dr. Mata sits up and her face turns into business.

“No I mean, I don't think you don’t need to see me anymore. You’ve grown so much from when you first came, and you’re so much happier, _Dios Mio_ ” she gasps and dabs at her eye, “I’m so proud of you, Jack. It won’t be easy, but look at all the people around you, all the shoulders to cry on and all hands to hold. ”

“Oh. Now I have nothing to do on Thursdays,” Jack stands and trys to shake his feeling of disbelief. _Better_ , he thinks, _I’m doing better_.

“Well, you can start having regular dates nights with Eric. Speaking of,” she strolls to her desk and scribbles something down on a bright green post-it note, “This is my phone number and address. Now that you’re not my patient anymore, I wanna hear all the details about you and your _Corazon._ ” She pulls him into a tight hug, and although she only reaches the top of his stomach, he’s comforted.

_I’m doing better._

 

* * *

 

**To: Jack L. Zimmermann**

**??????????????????**

**??????????????????**

**???????????????**

**May 18** **th** **, 2035**

Dear Jack,

Does he stay?

                          - JZ      

 

* * *

 

He sits in the parking lot for a while thinking of what to write. Dr. Mata suggested it as a last minute thought before he left, _‘What would you like to ask your future self?’_. Jack looks down at the Starbucks napkin; his hastily written note sprawled on the back of it. He finally takes his phone and texts Bitty.

**JZ: Hey Bits**

**EB: Hey honey! You’re out early!**

**JZ: yeah. Turns out Dr. Mata is letting me go**

**EB: Lord, did something happen?**

**JZ: No , nothing. She just feels like I’m in a place where I can navigate on my own.**

**EB: Baby that’s- amazing. Gosh, okay. I just got back from the grocery store. Darn it I wish I’d gotten something special. This is such good news baby!**

**JZ: Ha, I doubt ‘special’ would fit in my nutrition plan**

**EB: But today is a cheat day**

**JZ: You declaring it’s a cheat day does not make it a cheat day sweetheart**

**EB: So no Mozzarella Onion Rings  ):**

**JZ: You wouldn’t be able to post it anywhere**

**EB: I’m sure I’ll change your mind**

**JZ: Sure Bits. I’ll see you in a minute okay**

**EB: Oh wait before I forget there’s a letter here waiting for you**

**JZ: really from who?**

**EB:** **no return address**. **it’s probably a puck bunny love letter again**

**JZ: alright see you soon**

**EB: k love you**

**JZ: love you too**

 

* * *

“Bitty, where did you find that envelope?” Jack stands in the middle of his bedroom with his jaw slack.

“It was on the doormat!” Bitty calls from the kitchen. “What does it say?” Jack sits down on the edge of his bed, and modulates between shock and hysterical laughing. There’s just no way………….

“Nothing.” He whispers, then again louder for Bitty to hear him. “NOTHING! It’s blank.”

“Well, come one then! I need help reaching something!” Jack tears the letter into small pieces and stows them underneath the mattress before joining Bitty. He pads quietly down the hallway, stands in the entryway to the kitchen and watches Eric for a moment, the way he moves around Jack’s (read: Bitty’s) kitchen with such ease. Bitty catches him staring and gives him an odd look.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” Jack walks up to him and presses their foreheads  together, savoring the closeness. Jack brushes his lips over his pale forehead before replying; happy and content and in love with him.

“I’m doing better.”

 

* * *

 

**To: Jack Laurent Zimmermann**

**6079 Sweetridge RD, Apt 7306**

**Providence, Rhode Island 01052**

**November 6** **th** **, 2015**

 

**From: Jack Zimmermann**

**May 18th 2035**

Dear Jack,

Yeah, he does.

                                   Love,

                                              Jack Laurent ~~Zimmermann~~ Bittle  

 

* * *

 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I love ya'll!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> (A little help for those who are confused with the timeline, Nov 4th, Jack writes all the letters; Nov. 5th (nothing happens), Nov 6th; Jack goes to see Dr. Mata and receives his letter)


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